


February 14th

by thelilnan



Category: Insidious (Movies)
Genre: Confessions, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Platonic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 05:24:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10181606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilnan/pseuds/thelilnan
Summary: And now here he was, feeling his blood burn with lust rather than anger as he stared at Tucker’s back yet again, wondering if he could get through the repulsive smell of his breath long enough to climax. He figured he probably could, as keyed up as he was, but what would he even say?Hey Tucker we’ve known each other for a few years and even though we fight all the time and barely like each other would you mind rawing me so I can get over this stupid crush?Honestly, that might work, but Specs refused to sink so low.Still…





	

February 14th. 2:34 pm. Specs had officially been staring at Tucker for 15 minutes.

He tore his gaze away from the other man, looking back to his laptop and then checking the time on his phone. The digital numbers shifted from 4 to 5 at that moment. Just under 16 minutes. No one had said anything in over 30. Tucker had his headphones on, playing whatever indie junk he was into at the moment, while he tinkered with one of their cameras. The flashes had been delayed recently; something in the mechanics wasn’t working quite right. Luckily, Tucker wasn’t fazed by this. He’d practically built the camera from scraps and knew he could figure out what was going wrong. Specs decided to update the website while Tucker busied himself with the equipment. Youtube was becoming a less viable way to spread the word of their business, what with the update in Terms and Conditions and their follower algorithm. He’d opened their official website and cringed at the outdated aesthetic. These days called for something cleaner than the harsh black-and-green color scheme he’d initially coded. It was so hard to read now. What had he been thinking?

He’d opened Photoshop to generate a new, more neutral color scheme but quickly got distracted with his surroundings. They were in the shared office space of Specs’ small townhouse. Tucker had his desk in one corner, filled to the gills with his tools and spare parts, and Specs had his own, similar desk in the other corner, though his was much cleaner. He had less equipment to worry about as far as their job/hobby was concerned. Still, he had a few miscellaneous art supplies and drawing books strewn about but he was also more compulsively neat about his work space. Fewer things to distract him. Not that it helped now.

Specs stared at the wall for about a minute before turning in his chair to watch Tucker work on the camera. He was so focused on the task he didn’t notice the other man’s attention on him, nor the deeply lost look in his eyes. Had Tucker seen it, he probably would’ve recognized it from the many other times he’d caught Specs staring, though, like those other times, he likely would have pretended not to notice. And like those other times, Specs would have quickly turned back to what he should have been doing. But this was not like those other times and Specs continued to stare.

He had somewhat of an obsession with Tucker. It was embarrassing, really. He was so frustrated with the man more often than not; always butting heads from day one when Tucker had first emailed him with hundreds of questions about ghosts and the paranormal. What had once been exciting—that kind of attention was so new and foreign—quickly became aggravating when the questions wouldn’t stop and Tucker refused to accept short answers. Somehow they came to work together and eventually Specs allowed Tucker to take up residence in his garage, feeling sorry for Tucker’s unending struggle to find steady work and a place to live. He hadn’t exactly been homeless but living in one’s van doesn’t exactly scream ‘financial stability.’ Out of guilt, Specs offered his home, and his new roommate all but physically jumped at the offer.

That’s when it all started; the business and the unhealthy fascination. Specs didn’t understand the latter. Sure, he was comfortable enough with his sexuality to admit he liked men, even having a preference for them, but Tucker was not his usual cup of tea. He liked tall, masculine men. Nothing too beefy, but comfortable and inviting. Men like Josh Lambert.  _ Fuck, _ Specs had had such a hard time concentrating during their time with the Lamberts, even when it was revealed Josh had been possessed and even killed Elise. What could he say, the vessel was still hot as Hell. It was fairly disappointing seeing how committed he was to his wife and children—Specs was no homewrecker. Not on purpose anyway.

But then there was Tucker. Or more accurately, Tucker was always  _ there. _ Always at his side, usually eating whatever microwavable snack, just being his gross, repugnant, arrogant, stupid self. So then why did Specs find himself staring holes through the back of his head or catch his eyes drifting down the line of his body like he was some expensive cut of meat?

Specs had to figure it was because of the seemingly endless dry spell he was going through. It’d been months since he’d found his way into bed with anyone and longer still since he’d had a real relationship. He was bad with people. He got flustered so easily and ended up either tonguetied or babbling about some niche interest of his. No matter how long they would politely listen and nod along, eventually they would excuse themselves or cut the date short, telling Specs he was cute or some other emasculating epithet, and that would be that. Specs would return home from whatever club, bar, or restaurant, horny and embarrassed, and he’d find Tucker in the living room, playing video games or watching some cheesy horror flick, and recount the miserable experience. Tucker would offer his sympathies, rattling off whatever clichés he thought might help the other man, and Specs would either join him on the couch or go upstairs to shower and masturbate—he’d always end up masturbating. The only variable would be if he’d be thinking of his failed date or the man he’d finished a bad movie with. For the sake of his sanity, Specs prefered the former.

It was little things like that that eked their way into Specs’ mind. The staring, the compulsive fantasizing, even when they’d drink together and discuss their love lives. Specs would find himself getting jealous for reasons he didn’t want to examine, find himself curious in ways he didn’t want to be. But judging by Tucker’s stories, the larger man was proportionately well endowed and fuck if that wasn't right up Specs’ alley. He supposed that’s why he prefered tall men. So he was fucked, through and through.

He’d never actually go through with it though. It was  _ Tucker _ , after all. The man stunk of tacos most days, whether or not he’d eaten them. Not to mention he was such a passive aggressive  _ prick, _ always undermining Specs in front of clients and correcting him, making him feel so small and insignificant. Just thinking about it now made Specs’ blood boil but he took a breath, exhaled the anger, and turned back to his laptop. He clicked uselessly, adjusting some color swatches to better complement each other, and returned his hands to his lap once more. 

Fuck it, he wasn’t getting any work done today. He was too distracted, probably because of his failed attempts at self-stimulation the night before. As previously mentioned, Tucker’s face often found its way into Specs’ imagination toward the climax of these events. He tried to resist it last night, stopping as soon as he began to fantasize that his hand was replaced with a bigger, more calloused one, that he had a pair of soft, plump lips mouthing at his ear while he edged ever closer to the end. Sweat beading on his forehead, Specs snapped his hand away from his cock and stared at the darkened ceiling of his bedroom, waiting for the images to fade away. This happened again and again until Specs finally gave up and went to bed, achingly hard and disgusted with himself.

And now here he was, feeling his blood burn with lust rather than anger as he stared at Tucker’s back yet again, wondering if he could get through the repulsive smell of his breath long enough to climax. He figured he probably could, as keyed up as he was, but what would he even say?  _ Hey Tucker we’ve known each other for a few years and even though we fight all the time and barely like each other would you mind rawing me so I can get over this stupid crush? _ Honestly, that might work, but Specs refused to sink so low.

Still…

Specs all but jumped out of his seat when Tucker suddenly straightened from his slouched position, cracked his back with a groan, and stood up from his desk. He mumbled something about needing a break and rubbed at his eyes. Apparently straining to see all those tiny parts was giving him a headache. Specs snorted at the idea of the two of them eventually wearing glasses; his self-imposed nickname would make very little sense then.

Tucker patted Specs’ shoulder as he passed him, no doubt heading off to grab a quick snack while he rested from the tedious work of dismantling his camera. Impulsively, Specs followed after him, knowing he wasn’t actually invited but coming along all the same. Tucker didn't seem to mind, probably assuming Specs needed a break from his hard work as well.  _ Yeah, right. _ Though keeping himself from jumping the other man’s bones was considerably difficult so “hard work” may be apt (although following along behind him wasn't going to be much of a break.)

Specs leaned against the far corner while Tucker raided the fridge, carefully avoiding selecting any of Specs’ personal snacks. He watched the larger man paw around the refrigerator as if he were really looking but Specs knew that had he not been there, one of his own more expensive snacks would have quickly been snatched up. Tucker always stole his food, though it was in small amounts so that Specs would be less likely to notice. He still did, of course, knowing very well what he had and had not eaten but it never seemed like it was worth it to chew him out for it. Instead, he’d ice him out until he’d moved on half an hour later, only for the cycle to begin again the next time Tucker got hungry. But Specs was here and Tucker grabbed one of his own pudding cups, opting to avoid a fight.

The two of them didn’t speak the entire time Tucker ate his pudding, which was very fucking awkward but Specs didn’t trust himself to say anything. Knowing himself, he’d probably just end up blurting out how badly he wanted to fuck the other man, so he kept his mouth shut and watched him eat the pudding with an inappropriate amount of lust and bizarre jealousy. He didn’t even realize he’d been biting his lip until Tucker finished, tossed the garbage away, and turned on the smaller man.  _ Oh shit. _ What was that thing about subtlety?

“Dude, why—”

“Can I ask you something?” Specs interrupted suddenly. Well, no avoiding it now. He probably should have been rehearsing what he might say instead of just leering at his housemate, “Ah… so. I was wondering… You're single, right?”

“... Yeah?” Tucker answered cautiously. Specs continued, clearly fumbling for his words. The fuck was going on?

“Okay so, I was just… I haven't been with anyone in a long time and I just figured it would… we could… just. Like really low key, not a big deal or anything. I mean. I don't know if you're into guys but, uh. It'd just be a one time thing and it'd never happen again—”

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” Tucker held up a hand with a short scoff of disbelief, “Do you want to fuck me?”

Specs uttered a short, mortified sound. His face was redder than Tucker had even seen it before. Tucker grinned crookedly, crossing his arms in triumph. Specs kept his eyes down, clearly dying of embarrassment, and while Tucker was somewhat sympathetic, he was also immensely pleased. Specs wanted to fuck him! Go fucking figure.

“Can't say I'm surprised,” Tucker beamed haughtily. Specs glowered over the rims of his glasses, arms crossed defensively, “Many people want to. Just couldn't stay away, could you?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Specs bit, “Forget I said anything.”

Tucker laughed, “Oh no way, I’m never going to forget this! You want me.”

“I changed my mind!” Specs yelled suddenly. He was bright red, though now it was a dangerous mixture of embarrassment and anger. If Tucker wasn't careful, he'd probably end up with a black eye. Nevertheless, he persisted, advancing on the smaller man.

“Maybe for now but you're gonna want it again. You said it yourself, you haven't been with anyone in so long. And I'm right here.”

Specs clenched his jaw hard enough for his teeth to ache, furiously embarrassed and ready to clock Tucker, however ill-advised it may be. Tucker was in his face, breath washing over him, though thankfully it was void of the usual stink of taco seasoning that seemed to cling to him. Specs met the larger man’s gaze challengingly, even as he was mocked. Had it been anyone other than Specs, Tucker might have been intimidated. He had that kind of raw anger. But then again, Tucker had seen the very same man stepped over and brushed aside too easily in the past to care.

“Maybe if you're really nice,” Tucker’s voice rumbled smoothly, crooked grin growing wider, “I’ll let you suck my cock.”

Without any warning beyond a short snarl, Specs slapped Tucker straight across the jaw. Then, in almost the same instant, Tucker was jerked forward by the fabric of his ( _ vintage, collectible _ ) shirt into Specs. More specifically, his lips.

He was kissing him.

Tucker fumbled for an appropriate reaction—outrage, disgust, mockery—but he was too shocked to move. His head, which he would have expected to be full of anger and expletives, was full of static instead. All he could process—and just barely, at that—was the softness of Specs’ lips against his own, how eagerly he kissed him, and the pleasantly masculine scent of Specs’ cologne.

_ Oh shit. _

But then Specs was pulling away, probably assuming Tucker’s lack of reaction meant rejection. Before he could entirely separate himself, however, Tucker’s large arms wrapped around his smaller body and pulled him flush against his body, deepening the kiss that had never really stopped. Specs mumbled some noise of surprise which quickly melted into one of pleasure as Tucker’s tongue swiped teasingly over his lips. His mouth eagerly opened to encourage the exploration, as his fingers tightened their hold on Tucker’s ( _ vintage, collectible _ ) shirt.

Ideally, they would have simply stumbled back upstairs to Specs’ bed and had a passionate night together but nothing was ever so rose-colored. Instead, Tucker manhandled Specs into the nearest wall, crushing his smaller body before Specs managed to slap his chest hard enough to make him stop. Tucker all but jumped away, knowing he must’ve fucked up in some way, but instead of explaining to him that this was more of a moose versus a mouse situation than anything, Specs just took Tucker’s hand and pulled him upstairs without another word.

Tucker had about a thousand questions. He'd fooled around with men a handful of times before but he knew Specs was far more experienced. Unfortunately, the other man seemed so embarrassed by the whole ordeal that he'd gone effectively mute, leaving Tucker to make speculative guesses as to what his mumbles, grunts, and vague gestures meant. From that, he'd made it onto his bed and was getting his pants off, carefully watching Specs’ face for any sign he may be doing the wrong thing. Specs, God damn him, refused to look at Tucker. His face was red as a strawberry, which Tucker would normally take as a sign to apologize and leave, but he could see the physical signs of interest and arousal as well. It helped that Specs wore such tight jeans.

_ God, he really wants this. _

Tucker was flattered.

He’d never figured himself to be terribly attractive for one reason or another but he’d always sort of accepted that. So when someone actually,  _ really _ wanted him, it was nice. Really nice. And he’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d been eying Specs as well. He was an annoying, self-righteous son of a bitch, but he had a nice face. If he’d shut up for more than five minutes—as was the case now—Tucker could definitely get into it. But it hadn’t always been like that. Specs had just been his pain-in-the-ass business partner and housemate, sometimes friend, until suddenly, out of nowhere, he’d put his hand on Tucker’s thigh like it was completely normal. Tucker had been too shocked to speak, instead staring at the offending appendage with confusion and mild horror while Specs quietly turned to stone, clearly mortified. He’d retracted the hand a few moments later, probably hoping to move past the embarrassing faux pas, but Tucker kept it in the back of his mind.

Despite the asshole the hand was attached to, the contact was nice. Then he started to think more about it—more about Specs—and slowly, he came around to the idea. But that had just been a lazy fantasy he’d visit now and then, when he was settled into his bed in the former garage, drifting off to sleep. That Specs was a different man altogether. He was quiet, complicit, and idealized like one of those three dollar romance books at the register in grocery stores. Actually, he wasn’t so unlike Specs now, except for the compliance thing. But Tucker was not the same man he pretended to be in his fantasies; bold, dominant, confident. He simply wasn't the type to grab the other man by the hair and take what he wanted, especially while Specs was so clearly mortified. They found themselves at a stalemate, caught between ignorance and embarrassment, and Tucker was losing wood fast. Something had to be done. He had to say something.

“So what next?” Tucker’s voice came out unexpectedly rough as Specs opened his fly and pushed his pants down past his narrow hips. His briefs, dark red, were still tented.

“Stop talking.”

“Whatever you want, dude.”

“Stop talking!” Specs hissed again. He had to figure Tucker was mocking him and so he reacted defensively, but Tucker assured him that wasn't the case.

“Hey, hey, I'm serious,” he waved his hands, open palmed, to calm the smaller man, “I've never really done it with a guy before. So… whatever you want, dude. You're the boss.”

Something clicked with Specs then, as if the admission of authority was enough to dispel the overwhelming embarrassment and self-consciousness. Whatever it was, Tucker saw the change as Specs approached him on the bed and told him, very plainly, to take off his underwear. He obeyed, much to Specs’ satisfaction, especially upon the reveal of his half-hard cock. Specs eyed him with a hunger that thrilled Tucker but he didn't act on it just yet. Instead, he told Tucker to give him the lubricant from his bedside table and Tucker didn't miss the hesitation in his voice, nor the large dildo he brushed his fingers against while reaching in he back of the drawer. He gave the small, slippery bottle to Specs, watching as he shuffled his own briefs down to prepare himself for what Tucker assumed the endgame was. He licked his lips, feeling a bit lightheaded now. Specs’ confidence was quickly waning. He was growing self conscious again.

“Go on,” Tucker encouraged gently, voice low. Specs huffed, head down, but continued. He reached down, pushing a slick finger into himself with a soft exhale. Soon it was followed by another, then a third, and Tucker was more than a little turned on at the sight of Specs fingering himself. He licked his lips compulsively, not missing Specs’ gaze flicking attentively to the action and the slightly increased speed of his fingers. He grunted a soft, helpless noise, and Tucker exhaled.  _ Who gave Specs the right to be this hot? _

“Hey, can I…?” Tucker nodded and sat up. Specs met his eyes, his own now very dark, and he nodded. Neither one of them had expected this. Specs nodded, pulling his fingers out with a slight wince.

“You'll have to tell me what to do,” Tucker said breathlessly as Specs moved a bit closer to him, thighs positioned a fraction of an inch more open. It would have to do. Tucker tried not to be too distracted by the sight of Specs’ cock, flushed and eager, bobbing slightly in his direction as the man braced one hand against the headboard behind Tucker’s head.

Swallowing dryly, Specs took Tucker’s hand and poured some of the lubricant into his palm, telling him to slick up a couple of his fingers. Tucker did so readily, watching Specs respond to his obedience. Then Specs sat up, one hand bracing himself against the headboard, thighs spread to give Tucker access. His cock bobbed eagerly, further embarrassing him.

“It's like fingering a girl,” Specs’ voice was tight, “But it's more so I don't get hurt when you…”

He couldn't say it. Tucker didn't need him to. The implication was enough.

Carefully as he could, Tucker pushed his index finger into Specs, followed soon by his middle finger. They were considerably thicker than Specs’ own, which caused the smaller man to gasp and grit his teeth at the stretch. His hand skittered against the headboard, shoulders hunching as he bore down on Tucker’s fingers. Tucker stopped immediately when he saw the first signs of discomfort, convinced he'd hurt him already.

“N-no, it's okay,” Specs gasped with a nod. Emboldened, Tucker curled his fingers, mimicking a handful of times before in his life when he'd gotten similarly intimate with past girlfriends. Specs reacted very similarly; the gasps, the soft moans, the hips shifting to get just a bit more inside.

“God, you love this,” Tucker breathed, a bit surprised by the fact. Specs nodded, cheeks and chest now flushed with arousal. His cock would twitch now and then, the head slowly growing wetter as he became more and more aroused.

Eventually Specs told him to add a third finger and as he did, his cock jerked hard. Specs had gone temporarily speechless, mouth locked in a pleasantly surprised O. Tucker gawked and repeated the motion, producing the same response.

“Was… that your prostate?”

Specs nodded eagerly, gasping hard. Words weren't coming to him at the moment. Instead he just let out gasp after strained gasp, shoulders shaking as Tucker mercilessly teased him. His cock was twitching and beginning to leak now. He was getting far too close.

“Stop!” He finally managed, his face deep red and sweat beginning to head on his forehead. The short hairs at his temples were beginning to stick to his heated skin. Tucker obeyed without contest, eyes intently locked on the smaller man.

“Did I hurt you?” He assumed the worst outright. Specs just shook his head.

“I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” his voice was little more than a hoarse whimper now. Tucker swallowed but said nothing. Specs was ready.

Tucker withdrew his hand carefully, watching Specs for any sign of discomfort. The other man was avoiding looking at him, probably embarrassed he'd gotten so worked up. He did manage a severe frown when he caught Tucker wiping his hand off on the corner of his duvet.

“I have a tissue box right there!” He motioned to the box in question, perched on the far end of his bedside table. Tucker ignored him.

“So how do you want to do this?”

Specs huffed, eyes darting as he considered the options. He'd had a lot of different fantasies leading up to these proceedings but he'd never thought he'd be here one day, faced with the decision. In the end he decided Tucker was better off on his back, leaving the majority of the work to himself.  _ As usual. _

It occurred to Specs then that he hadn't done anything for Tucker. More than just a social faux pas, he was concerned that it might delay the actual proceedings and he was far too eager now to wait for Tucker to get it up. As he moved to assist the larger man in this, however, he noticed that Tucker’s arousal wasn’t actually going to be much of an issure. His cock, significantly larger than Specs’ own, was lying hard and flushed against his stomach, framed by the man’s prevalent body hair. Specs gawked stupidly for a moment before looking to Tucker, who merely shrugged with a sheepish grin.

_ Well, alright. _

“I have some condoms in the drawer, too,” Specs cleared his throat, eyes averted.

“Do you have anything in there besides sex stuff?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” he huffed indignantly, “... Check books. But why would I keep that stuff anywhere else when the table’s right there?”

Tucker rolled his eyes and fished for a condom, not entirely sure he needed one. It's not like he was going to get him pregnant and he highly doubted either one of them had any kind of contractible disease (unless stupidity counted). He mentioned this as he tore the packet open and rolled the condom on, not missing Specs’ attentive gaze in the action.

“Better safe than sorry,” Specs defended mildly.

“But then we can be STD buddies,” Tucker grinned. Specs didn't find this funny.

Specs moved into the apparent position, his back to Tucker and straddling his hips. Tucker was a bit surprised initially but he figured it made sense, given how prone to humiliation the smaller man was and how this was intentioned to be a platonic fuck.  _ Platonic fuck. _ Tucker considered this as a new insult against his business partner, though the thought was immediately pushed aside as Specs gripped his cock and began to sink slowly down onto it. For all that preparation, he was still incredibly tight, though it seemed not to cause him any major discomfort. Tucker focused on keep his breathing steady and his hips still as Specs began rocking on top of him, easing himself down, down, down…

Tucker pushed himself back against the headboard hard, trying to steady himself. His hands fidgeted on the duvet, grasping and smoothing down the soft cover restlessly, as Specs began his slow rhythm. He alternated watching the other man’s ass as he rode him maddeningly slowly and staring at the ceiling, praying he'd get through this before blowing his load too soon. Well, then they could both be embarrassed. Tucker wiped a hand over his mouth and beard, stifling a small groan.

_ I'm just being used _ , he reminded himself and somehow found the thought thrilling,  _ I'm basically a massive dildo. Bigger than the one in the drawer, anyway. _ He huffed a small laugh but unfortunately, this seemed to distract Specs. He stopped suddenly, fully seated in Tucker’s lap, and Tucker squeezed his eyes shut in effort to hold back climax.

“Are you laughing?”

“No.”

“It sounded like a laugh.”

“Specs will you just keep moving?? I'm not going to be any use to you if I come 30 seconds into this.”

Rather than arguing (what a fucking miracle), Specs resumed his rhythm. Fuck, it was so good. Tucker closed his eyes again, sighing with pleasure. His hands found their way to Specs’ ass, aiding him in the ride. Specs flinched initially but allowed the unprecedented contact, even enjoying the implication of control Tucker now had.

It wasn't long before Specs was all but outright bouncing in Tucker’s lap, the two of them sighing and moaning openly as climax approached. Specs, with his hands braced on the duvet before him, hadn't had a way to touch himself this entire time, and his cock was aching for contact. He tried to get a hand away and find relief, but the brutal pace of his body rocking on top of Tucker nearly made him fall flat on his face. Tucker caught him quickly, his hands catching Specs’ by his stomach to keep him from losing position. He enjoyed the small whine Specs let escape and the sensation of his ass squeezing tightly around his cock like he  _ needed _ Tucker to keep fucking him. Then Tucker spoke, voice rough, “Hey, turn around.”

Specs hunched his shoulders, a thousand arguments waiting to come tumbling out, but instead he lifted himself off and turned around, finding his place on Tucker’s hips yet again. They both groaned as Specs settled back on top of him, now face to face. Specs’ glasses were threatening to slip off the end of his nose and Tucker silently took them away, setting them safely on the bedside table. Though the world was not nearly in as crisp focus as Specs preferred, he acknowledged the advantage of not having to worry about the glasses flying off. With an exhale, he braced his hands on Tucker's clothed chest and resumed his rhythm, rocking with his knees braced against the bed. Now Tucker’s hands were everywhere, not just on his hips. They roamed restlessly from his thighs to his back, up under the front of his shirt, playfully tweaking Specs’ nipples. This earned him an indignant but otherwise pleasures squeak from the man, whose rhythm faltered. Tucker licked his lips, mischievous hands lifting the shirt up to expose his chest. Before Specs could protest, Tucker’s lips and tongue were on him, gently sucking at the sensitive skin. Specs  _ squealed,  _ cock jerking hard. He'd lost all semblance of rhythm now, mind too far gone with pleasure to maintain any coherence.

Tucker dug his hands into Specs’ back, keeping him close as he attacked his chest with sucking kisses and gentle bites, driving the smaller man wild. He was making a beautiful cacophony of noises now, hips bucking hard as he approached climax. Tucker was having a near impossible time controlling himself; all he wanted to do was cover every inch of Specs’ skin with bites, make him moan and scream his name if he could. Where did all this come from? Only half an hour ago he was mocking the same man for even suggesting they would share a bed and now he was convinced this is how he wanted to die, surrounded by Specs, driving him wild, and fucking him within an inch of his life. His hips wouldn't stay still now. He was actively thrusting into Specs, meeting his hips hard in a loud, punishing rhythm. Specs’ voice was wavering with the onslaught, his head back and hands tugging on Tucker’s matted hair. It was all so animalistic. Tucker bit Specs’ chest, inducing another pleasured whine.

Then Specs was pulling Tucker’s head away from his chest, now riddled with red marks, and for a second, Tucker assumed he'd done something wrong. The question died on his lips as they were met by Specs’ in a deep, messy kiss. Specs’ tongue licked deep into his mouth, their moans intermingling. The end was nigh. Tucker wrapped his arms around Specs and held him in place as he fucked him, hard and fast, until Specs suddenly cried out against his lips. He came, shuddering and whining, his whole body shaking with pleasure. Tucker followed soon after with a handful of hard thrusts, groaning low into Specs’ mouth. They stayed locked together for long moments after, as they recovered from the immense high of their orgasms. Specs continued kissing Tucker, even as the larger man glad boneless beneath him. His small hands combed through Tucker’s sweaty hair as he kissed, licked, and bit at his lips. Tucker shuddered now and then, growing overstimulated.

Finally, Specs pulled away, his whole body sore from the extensive exercise. He felt like he needed a shower, badly, and Tucker looked like he shared the sentiment. It took a moment before the larger man realized what a mess Specs had made of his ( _ vintage, collectible _ ) shirt and he sat up, ready to raise Hell. Then he caught sight of Specs, blissfully calm and fucked out, and his shirt didn't seem quite as important (still very important though—it was a collectible!)

Admitting defeat, Tucker removed his shirt and Specs did the same, the two of them accepting the reality of the situation; two friends who hated each other’s guts as much as they liked each other had amazing, mind-blowing sex and were likely to do it again, should nothing better come along. Tucker doubted anything would. Even if it did, he was sure he'd table it in favor of seeing just how many things would make Specs make those amazing sounds again (as well as what would render him speechless.) But for now, he just settled onto the bed, condom doffed and tied, and Specs griping under his breath about how it should be thrown away rather than on his bedside table.

Just as sleep began to take hold of him, Tucker checked the Casio watch on his wrist, thankful that had managed to remain unsoiled throughout the messy affair. Just after 3:15pm, February 14th. Tucker snorted, waking Specs from his light doze at his side.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, dude.”

“Fuck off.”

 

End.


End file.
